Sparks
by timeaftertime09
Summary: One-shot set in July, months after Daniel follows Betty to London, yet they still aren't together. Written in the spirit of Independence Day.


Betty wasn't sure how she went from planning a weekend of work to flying first-class with Daniel to New York. As she looked down at him, asleep on her shoulder, she guessed it was because he sensed she was missing her family and America. And he was probably feeling the same. Not that the British held a grudge, but it wasn't as if they celebrated their colonists gaining independence from England.

She and Daniel hadn't really spent a whole lot of quality time together since he moved to London. She had wanted to, but late nights at the office trying to start a new magazine had gotten in the way. The three or four dinners they had had weren't enough for her to figure out why he had really decided to move there. Sure, there had been a few longing glances, and he would text her throughout the week – even show up with coffee and her favorite Danish when she was still stuck at the office at 10:30PM. But it never went further than that and she began to wonder if his mother's theory was just wishful thinking.

Betty was open either way. It wasn't like she _needed_ to have a man in her life – especially with the magazine. But it would be nice to have a love life again, and Daniel was looking more and more appealing lately. Maybe it was because he was the one person she truly knew and trusted in the city or maybe the thought of him wanting to be more than friends was more intriguing than she had originally thought. A part of her still felt it strange to think about him that way, but she didn't think it was something she couldn't get over . . .

"Miss? Would you and your boyfriend care for anything to eat or drink?" the stewardess pulled Betty out of her trance.

"Oh, he's not –" Betty started to correct her, but then figured it wasn't that big of a deal. "Um . . . two mimosas and two banana muffins, please. Thanks!"

"Daniel?" Betty gently nudged him.

"Mmm?" he faintly muttered.

"Daniel, I got us some breakfast," she nudged him again.

"Mmmm . . . thanks, baby," he sleepily mumbled.

Her eyes widened. Either somewhere in his head he _was_ thinking about her, or he was dreaming about a supermodel – supermodel was more like it.

"Daniel, wake up!" she gently pushed him off of her shoulder.

"What? Huh?" his eyes sprung open.

"Breakfast," she repeated, handing him the muffin.

"Oh, thanks," he said, taking it and opening his tray.

"Sorry I dozed off on you – I didn't get much sleep last night – or this morning – or whatever it is," he apologized.

"It's okay," she smiled, handing him a mimosa. "So did you call your mom?"

"Yeah – she's really excited I'm coming home. She wants you to stop by before you leave," he said, taking a sip.

"I will," Betty promised.

"So, uh . . . I was thinking . . . we could both spend time with our families and then meet up tonight - maybe go to this fireworks display they're having in Central Park?" he proposed, nervously. "People usually get there early for a good seat and have picnics and stuff . . . We could order Chinese from that place on 4th?"

"I'd love that . . ." she smiled.

"Pick you up at 8:00PM?" he suggested.

"Perfect," she agreed.

"Great," Daniel coyly looked at her.

Betty looked back, just as shy. Maybe it wasn't a supermodel after all . . .

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"Mmmm . . . I'm so stuffed!" Betty moaned as she rubbed her stomach.

"Me, too," Daniel said, leaning against the trunk of the tree. "That was so much better than Fung Wu's in London!"

"Totally!" she agreed.

"Hey - we forgot our fortune cookies," he noticed, putting the empty boxes back in the bag.

"Ugh, I can't eat another bite," she groaned.

"Well, we could at least open them," he suggested, handing her one and taking the other.

"There will be sparks in your future," Betty read, rolling her eyes as she pointed to the fireworks starting. "Ha. Ha."

Daniel cracked his cookie open.

"Speak up, or your happiness will soon disappear?" he read the piece of paper.

"That's weird," Betty commented.

"Yep," he said and pitched it in the trash.

"Hey, Daniel?" she said.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Thank you . . . for convincing me to come," she smiled at him.

"It's nothing – I knew you were a little homesick," he shrugged.

"You know me better than I know myself sometimes," she admitted.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he chuckled.

"When I was little, I used to think fireworks were colored stars falling from the sky . . . I loved the purple and pink ones," Betty thought back. "And every year, Papi would tell me and Hilda the story of when he and Mami first came to America . . . Of course, now I know some of that was made up because he couldn't tell us _all_ of what really happened. But back then it sounded like a fairytale."

"It seems like your father did what he had to do to protect your mother and their future," Daniel assured her.

"Yeah, he did," she looked down at the blanket, recalling the whole mess when he was deported.

"My family would go to our cottage at the lake and watch the fireworks from our yard. We had the best view – like front row seats. It was one of the few times of the year that we'd all stop fighting and shut up – just enjoy the moment. I don't know, maybe it was only because it was so loud, you couldn't hear anybody anyway, but I loved it," Daniel remembered.

Betty gave him a bittersweet smile, knowing how hard his childhood had been.

"Ooh, look at that one!" she said, noticing a really amazing display of fireworks. "It's beautiful!"

"Yeah, it is . . ." Daniel agreed then took her hand.

The immediate electricity caught her by surprise, but when she looked at him, she knew he had felt it too. They went back to watching the display, but never let go of each other's hand.

"Come on," Daniel said, pulling her up as the DJ played the last song of the night, Eric Clapton's 'Wonderful, Tonight'.

They took the traditional stance, but by the end of the song, they were holding each other close and Betty's head was resting on Daniel's chest. She looked up at him and they locked eyes. He leaned down and slowly pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that soon became heated. She grasped the hair at the nape of his neck as he pulled her even closer into him, his fingers getting tangled in her hair, his tongue dueling hers as it explored the depths of her mouth.

"W-We'd better go," Betty said as they broke, both out of breath. "Um . . . So are you coming to my Dad's tomorrow for the neighborhood barbeque?"

"Yeah," he said, nervously toying with her hand. "I still don't get how he manages to cook for all those people every year."

"Oh, he doesn't. Everyone in the neighborhood alternates. It's just his turn this year," she explained as they hailed a cab.

"It's still a big job – I could never do that. I have enough trouble cooking for myself," he joked.

"Yeah, me too," Betty laughed.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet and she wondered if maybe their kiss had been a mistake. She had been blown away by the intensity of it, how she actually found herself wanting more. But maybe Daniel hadn't.

"I had a really great time tonight," she said, as he walked her to the door.

"Me, too," he said.

An awkward silence hovered over them until Daniel leaned forward, closing the space between them. He brushed her hair away from her face.

"See you tomorrow," he roughly whispered in her ear, his breath falling on her neck.

Betty smiled, getting goosebumps all over as he left.

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"Hey," Betty greeted Daniel as he showed up the next afternoon.

"Hey," he smiled and reached for her hand.

Betty smiled shyly, and nervously swung their hands as they stared at each other.

"Come on, let's go inside," she tugged him toward the door.

"Hi, Daniel. So glad you could join us!" Ignacio greeted him.

"Thanks! Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered.

"Yes, if you and Betty could carry out the meat for the fajitas – I've got my hands full with these hot dogs," Ignacio said.

"Sure," Daniel said and went into the kitchen.

The afternoon went by fast with people from all over the neighborhood stopping by and chatting, music playing in the background, and the food an endless buffet. Betty hoped Daniel had had a good time, given he didn't know anybody but her family and Gina Gambaro, who was already divorced from the podiatrist and hanging all over Daniel like he was the last man on earth. And Betty's obvious glares didn't seem to faze her any.

"So, did you have fun?" she asked him as they were cleaning up in the kitchen.

"Yeah, definitely!" he said. "It was great meeting some of the people you grew up with. And the food was awesome. I really want the recipe for your dad's mojitos."

"Good," Betty smiled, lightly laying her hand on his chest.

Daniel grabbed it and smiled at her.

"Excuse me, baby sister, but we need to have a talk!" Hilda abruptly pulled Betty away.

"_What_ is goin' on between you and Daniel?" she demanded to know, once they were in another room.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Oh come on, Mamita!" she protested. "You two were making goo-goo eyes at each other all afternoon and he kept finding ways to touch your hips or your arms, and don't even get me started on whatever was goin' on in the kitchen – it's a good thing I came in there 'cause I don't know what happened to the fire extinguisher!"

"Hilda, you're exaggerating!" Betty accused, hating their confrontations about her love life.

"Am I?" Hilda stood her ground.

"Okay, fine. Daniel and I are . . . I don't know what we are. But when we went to see the fireworks last night . . . we kind of had some of our own," she admitted.

"_You guys did it_?" Hilda exclaimed.

"No! _No!_ Jesus, Hilda, why does your mind immediately go to sex?" Betty complained. "We held hands . . . and danced . . . and then we . . . kissed."

"_Oh._ Well, that's still big, for you guys. So are you like a couple, now?" Hilda wondered.

"I don't know . . . we haven't really talked about it," she said.

"I'd find out, if I were you," Hilda advised. "That is, if you really like him like that. Guys like Daniel don't stay single for long."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Betty asked, assuming Hilda still thought of him as a rich playboy.

"I mean that he's a good guy – look at everything you guys have been through. A lot of girls would _kill_ to have him give them the time of day," Hilda clarified.

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. I guess I should talk to him. It's funny thinking about him that way, but when he kisses me or holds my hand, suddenly it isn't so funny anymore," Betty confessed.

"Awww . . . Chica, you're falling in looove," Hilda said in a sing-song voice.

"I wouldn't go_ that _far . . . yet. But I do really like him," she smiled.

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"So what was _that_ all about?" Daniel wondered as Betty sat next to him on the front steps.

"Nothing – just Hilda being Hilda," she rolled her eyes. "She, um . . . she wanted to know if we were a couple."

"What did you tell her?" he asked.

"I said that I didn't know . . . Are we?" she asked.

"Do you want to be?" he questioned.

"Do _you_ want to be?" she countered. "Okay, never mind – this is getting too junior high."

Daniel chuckled.

"Betty, look," he turned and took her hands. "I want to be with you – and not just occasionally or when I need a date to some event. It's why I moved to London in the first place."

"It is?" she said, a little surprised, although in the back of her mind she had a feeling it wasn't just to start over – he could've done that anywhere.

"Yeah, it is. I know I should've said something a lot sooner, but I could never find the right time," he admitted. "So, uh . . . Is this okay – us together?"

"It's definitely okay," she smiled. "I want to be with you, too."

"Good," he said, as they longingly stared at each other, knowing they had a potential audience at the moment.

Finally, Betty no longer cared about the neighbors still mingling in their yard or Mrs. Vasquez yelling at a kid to stay away from her lawn ornaments. She pulled Daniel's face down to hers and latched her lips onto his in a slow, passionate kiss. She could see out of the corner of her eye that everyone was staring and whispering at them, but it didn't matter. She was genuinely happy, and knew she'd remember this 4th of July for the rest of her life.


End file.
